My Heroine
by The Young Pilgrim
Summary: AU. Delphine and Cosima have known each other since Delphine moved in across the street when they were 8. As they grow older, they only grow closer.
1. Prologue

**A/N: This is my first ever fic for Orphan Black, so we'll see how that goes.**

****I just used Google Translate for the French, so I apologize if any of it is wrong. Also, the translations are at the end of the chapter.****

****(2/2/14: I merged the first chapter with the prologue to make the story flow nicely.)****

**Disclaimer: I, unfortunately, own nothing even related to Orphan Black.**

**All mistakes are mine and mine alone.**

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><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

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><p>I was eight the first time I saw her.<p>

I remember the day so perfectly clear because it was one of those rare new days, those days where something new is coming, some novel thing is growing, building, becoming great. I didn't know how important that day was way back then, in fact, I once considered it the worst day of my life.

The day was moving day. My family and I were to fly from our lovely home in France where all my friends and the rest of my family were going to stay and grow up together, without me, and move to some hilly city in America of all places called San Francisco.

I had never heard of San Francisco, I knew nothing of this place I was supposed to call home. But my father, he told me that home is where your life is and he told me that life is all about adventure, about taking risks and making tough decisions, and this journey across the sea was all that wrapped up in one pretty little contract from his company, a contract that spelled out thousands more for my father if he just agreed to make one small move.

Well, when he put it that way, eight year old me was nearly convinced.

The real convincing though wouldn't start until the unpacking began.

The first time I saw her, I was drenched in sweat, my hair stuck firmly to neck, my clothes clinging in all the wrong places, from the heavy August sun beating down on me while I did the best any scrawny eight year old can do when it comes to moving box after box into a house much larger than anticipated.

I had just dropped off a box of my toys in my room on the second floor. I thought I'd take a quick break and look out the window to really see where I was supposed to live for the foreseeable future.

I'll never forget that moment, standing on the tips of my toes just to see out of the window, looking at this new world where the sun might be unforgivable but the wind blows so sweet and the hills roll into each other over and over way off in the horizon where everything is new, where everything is still an adventure.

I fell in love twice that day.

First, with my new home buried in the steep hills of sunny San Francisco. Then, with a girl who quite literally stumbled into my vision.

She was short, tiny really, with brown hair and these big circle glasses that took up most of her face. The thing that really caught my attention though was that she had been pushed forward into my picturesque scene by some giant beast of a boy. But instead of crying or yelling for her parents, much like I would've done, she picked herself up, dusted off the grass from her pants, and with these scrawny little arms, she shoved that prick right back. This tiny creature had the absolute balls to shove a kid easily twice her size.

And you know what, it worked. That kid, whose name I never learned despite the fact he's lived next to me for ten years, fell right on his ass and started bawling.

Then, this girl with twiggish arms stronger than an oak bent over and hoisted up her bully just to wipe off his tears and wrap him up in a hug. The boy held his arms to his side for a second before engulfing this tiny, brave girl with his arms longer than her whole body.

She was amazing.

I was in love.

I remember being eight and having no idea what this warm, swirling feeling in the pit of my stomach was. It was like the summer ocean was crashing into my rib cage, an undercurrent was churning my organs, a whirlpool was circling my heart. It was like I was drowning and flying all at once.

I had no idea what this feeling was, but I knew I never wanted it to go away.

So I wrapped my arms around myself to keep the waters from rushing out as I ran out of my new room and down the stairs. I still remember crashing in to my mother and hearing her curse for the first time. I could barely believe it, my prim and proper mother shouting "Merde!" as she stumbled down a few steps and grabbed desperately at the railing to keep from tumbling down the flight of stairs.

But I couldn't stop and make sure my mom was alright, I was on a mission, I had to meet this brave little girl, my mother's shouting be damned. I continued on, bursting through the front door and running past the moving van, I was nearly to the street when my father called for me.

"Delphine! Delphine, éloigne toi de la route!" He had on his angry voice, the kind of austereness that only a worn out father can pull off.

My legs came to a screeching stop. Across the street, the little brunette looked up, her classes were so smudged with dirt I'm sure she couldn't see but a vague outline of my shape. She gave a little wave and went back to playing with that bully, without even waiting for me to wave back.

God did I hate that kid then. Why should he be the one allowed to play with someone who was clearly too brave, too kind to hang around him? I should have been the one across the street, kicking a ball back and forth with the girl who made the ocean rage inside me.

But, of course, there was no ignoring my father's angry voice. So, I turned around with slumped shoulders and grabbed the box from his outstretched hands, letting the swirling currents in my stomach pour out as I went.

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><p>It took two days for us to finish bringing in all the boxes. Two days where I was barely allowed out of the house let alone across the street. Two days I spent stealing glances out of my window at the pale yellow house, just waiting for her to come back out.<p>

Once the moving van was gone, the neighborhood welcome wagon parked in its place. Every family on the street brought us something: flowers, pies, pastas, you name it. It was fantastic; I had never had so many sweets before and so many I had never even heard of.

Really though, I was just waiting for the family from the little yellow house with the brave little girl to show up. Of course, they were the very last family to visit. They came sweeping in with apologies for taking so long to visit and the sweetest apple pie I have ever tasted.

She didn't look anything like either of her parents. Her father was tall with slim shoulders, blonde hair, and an expensive-looking suit. Her mother was petite and she had strawberry-colored hair and these big blue eyes that pulled your attention right in.

She was little, tiny shoulders, chicken legs, she looked like a baby deer. But her stature was, and is, the only small thing about her. She spoke with this loud voice that would bump up an octave every time she was excited by something, and she was excited by everything, her eyes light up behind those giant round glasses, and she wore a constant smile that spread to everyone around her.

She was the one who rang the doorbell. I had been watching from the window, I saw them leave their house and when they walked in our direction, I bounded down to the top of the staircase so I could see them as soon as they walked in. My father opened the door and was greeted by a small hand reaching for his own. He laughed and crouched down to her height so she wouldn't have to reach so far.

She shook his hand and very proudly said, "Hello! I'm Cosima!" with a smile that would quickly become more familiar to me than my own.

He chuckled and said, "Well it's nice to meet you, Cosima. I'm Mr. Cormier." He stood back up to greet her parents and shake their hands over Cosima's head. Once my father stepped out of the way and gestured for them to come in, Cosima, brave little Cosima, came bounding in and ran right up the stairs, straight to me.

"Hello! I'm Cosima! Wanna play?" She stood with her hands behind her back while she rocked back and forth on her heels, ever the impatient one.

"Oui. Non, je veux dire yes. Sorry, yes!" I was new to English and I still stumbled over a lot of the words. But Cosima would always just smile and wait for me to figure out what I was trying to say.

"Good!" She grabbed my hand and pulled me down the stairs and out the door, not that she had to pull very hard to get me to follow her.

Our parents shouted, "Be careful!" as we went.

She just turned and giggled before running across the street with her hand still firmly wrapped around mine.

Once we were in her front yard, she let go of my hand and with open eyes and a wide smile she said, "So, I've got a soccer ball, barbies, trains, and a barbie car. What d'you wanna do, um, what's your name?"

The words tumbled from her mouth so quickly there was no chance my barely-English-speaking brain would be able to keep up. I stood still for a second with my shoulders shrugged so high they were practically touching my ears

"Sorry, my mom always tells me I have to learn how to slow down because no one can understand me when I talk like a racehorse."

She had slowed down, just barely, but it was enough for me to pick up on the gist of what she was saying.

She tried again. "What's your name?"

"Delphine." I said quietly with my eyes darting down and hands wrapped tightly around my stomach, still trying to keep the water from spilling out.

"Well Delphine," she smiled, "we can play whatever you want, so what d'you wanna do?"

I had no idea what I was supposed to say, I didn't know what kids in San Francisco played or what Cosima liked to play. All I knew was that this tiny brunette's smile was the reason why every river in America was swirling in my stomach.

All I knew, at eight years old, was that I never wanted that feeling of falling and flying to go away and I would do anything, play any silly game, tell any stupid joke, anything as long as that tiny brunette never stopped smiling at me.

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><p><strong>Translations:<strong>

**1. Merde! - Shit!**

**2. Delphine, éloigne toi de la route! - Delphine, get away from the street!**

**3. Oui. Non, je veux dire yes. - Yes. No, I mean yes.**

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><p><strong>Good? Bad? Let me know if you're feelin' up to it.<strong>

**Thanks for reading!**


	2. The End of an Era

**A/N: Hey guys**** thanks**** for all the reviews and follows and favorites and all that jazz, it honestly means a lot.**

**I decided to combine the prologue with the first chapter to make a longer prologue that, at least to me, flowed a bit better. I didn't change what was in them at all, just stuck 'em together. This is the new first chapter which skips ahead a few years. **

**Translations are, once again, at the bottom. **

**Disclaimer: I, unfortunately, own nothing even related to Orphan Black.**

**All mistakes are mine and mine alone.**

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><p><strong>Chapter One: The End of an Era<strong>

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><p>As cute as the whole love at first sight thing is, our story really didn't start until four years later when I was twelve. It was the first year of middle school. Those preteen hormones are in overdrive: friendships are lost and won over boys, rumors fly around the school faster with each passing hour, and suddenly everything seems like its life or death.<p>

Cosima and I were inseparable. She was still this tiny ball of pure energy, bouncing and laughing and just making the world a better place. I knew then, that something was different about the way I felt about her. I knew it wasn't normal to feel a hurricane swirling through your body every time you look at your best friend, your best friend who happened to be a girl. I knew your heart wasn't supposed to ach when you thought about her. I knew you weren't supposed to swoon at the smallest of smiles.

I knew all this, but frankly, I didn't give a damn.

I didn't care that all my other friends were running off with their new boyfriends. I was happy watching them blush over a kiss on the cheek. I loved watching their faces light up whenever they spoke about whichever boy they were going to spend the next month or so with. The joy that comes with that new puppy love is so wonderful and warm and contagious and I was happy just to revel in the joy of my friends and the love in my friendship with Cosima.

I was twelve and having the time of my life with my best friend in the world.

Then Scott came along. Scott, with his goofy smile and nervous disposition. He and Cosima had been getting closer. They had a few classes together, including Biology which they were both so passionate about (I was too but I had a different teacher than the two of them, so more often than not our classes were different enough that I couldn't contribute to their heated discussions), and as such had started to spend quite a lot of time together both in school and out of school.

One day, Cosima and I were in the library together after school. Scott came up to our table and, of course, only spoke to Cosima. He was fidgeting constantly, he would stare at Cosima only to duck away as soon as she made eye contact, and 'um' had replaced his normally expansive, well at least expansive for a twelve-year-old, vocabulary.

I rolled my eyes and pretended to read my notes while I listened to his nervous rambling.

He stared directly at the floor as he spoke, "So, um, Cosima, I was, um, wondering if I could talk to you, uh, alone" his eyes darted to me for a second, "I mean just for like a second."

Cosima paused, sounded unsure when she answered, "Uh, yeah sure." She tapped me on the shoulder. "I'll be right back, Delph."

I made some small affirmative noise while I pretended to be very interested in whatever the hell I was reading.

A few minutes later, Cosima came bounding back up to the table, her signature cheshire grin was double its normal size. She slammed my book shut and when I tried to slap her hand away, she grabbed my book and bounced back on her heels.

"Cosima, what is wr-"

"Scott asked me out!" She blurted out, then blushed and crossed her hands in front of her chest.

I plastered on my best smile. "That's great! I'm so happy for you, Cos."

"Thanks." She slumped down in the chair across from me and propped her feet up on my thighs. "He was talking so quickly when he asked I could barely understand what he said."

I chuckled through gritted teeth.

Cosima didn't notice though. She blabbed on and on about how cute Scott was when he's nervous and how glad she was that she found someone she just clicked with for over an hour before my mom came to pick us up.

She didn't even stop when we got in the car. She just told my mother everything I'd already had to suffer through. My mom smiled at her and made the appropriate noises at the appropriate times while sending worried glances my way.

As soon as we pulled into the driveway, Cosima yelled out, "Thanks for the ride Mrs. C!" as she ripped open the mini van's door.

"You're not staying?" My mother asked as she stepped out into the driveway.

Cosima was already halfway to her house when she called back, "No, I told Scott I'd call him as soon as I got home."

"Oh alright. I'll see you later then, dear."

Cosima waved over her shoulder, but didn't break pace this time.

I slammed the car door as I got out.

"Delphine, tu vas bien? Qu'est-ce qui ne va pas?"

"Je vais bien."

I wasn't fine though. I was beyond mad. Everyday since we were eight, Cosima and I would hang out in the library until either my or Cosima's mom came to pick us up from school and bring us to my or her house. We'd do our homework together, goof around for a while, eat dinner, and one of us would go home. Everyday for four years. And now all the sudden Scott was more important than our routine, than our friendship, than me?

"So who exactly is this Scott?"

"He's a nice boy, maman"

"Well that's good. I'm glad Cosima is so happy."

"Me too." I sighed. "I'm gonna go do my homework upstairs."

"Alright, well if you need anything just call."

I tried not to be mad at Cosima. She was excited, that was all. In a few days she would get over this whole new relationship thing and it would all go back to normal.

So I put on some loud music, worked on my homework, and I tried to forget how much I hated working alone.

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><p>Two months later and it still hadn't gone back to normal. Cosima stopped waiting in the library with me. Instead, she went home on Scott's bus everyday. She stopped sitting with me at lunch. Instead, she sat with Scott and his idiot friends. She stopped doing anything with me unless we were in the same class and Scott wasn't there. And even then all she did was talk about Scott.<p>

My brave little girl was gone and some boy-crazy, friendship-abandoning teenager had taken her place.

I hated it. I tried so hard to be happy for her. I should have been happy for her. She found someone she really clicked with, someone who understood her, someone who cared about her. The problem was that she already had that.

Well, she used to at least. I used to click with her, until the only thing she cared about was some boy, I used to understand her, until she forgot everything she used to care about, I used to care about her, until she stopped caring about me.

Soon after that, even the short conversations we had in class stopped almost entirely. I couldn't deal with the twenty-four hour Scott channel that came out of her mouth, and she couldn't deal with my uninterested responses.

And exactly like we had promised would never happen, our friendship was lost to a boy.

At least for now.

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><p><strong>Translations:<strong>

**1. "Delphine, tu vas bien? Qu'est-ce qui ne va pas?" - "Delphine, are you alright? What's wrong?"**

**2. "Je vais bien." - "I'm fine."**

**3. Maman - Mom**

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><p><strong>Good? Bad? Let me know if you're feelin' up to it.<strong>

**Thanks for reading!**


	3. Fuckin Freshmen

**A/N: You are all so very lovely. So many thanks for all the reviews. **

**Sorry this one took so long, life has been a bit hectic as of late. **

**I keep messing with the chapters because it drives me crazy when the chapter of the story and the chapter that the website shows don't match up. Hopefully this is the last time I have to mess with them or I'll just give up.**

**Anyway, on to the story. **

**Disclaimer: I, unfortunately, own nothing even related to Orphan Black.**

**All mistakes are mine and mine alone.**

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><p><strong>Chapter Two: Fuckin' Freshmen<strong>

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><p>After Cosima started to change, after she became this angry, brooding teenager, it became much easier for me to forget how I once felt about her. When I saw her in the halls with her hood covering her head and her shoulders slumped, my chest no longer felt hollow, instead my head ached with the violence of the music blaring from her headphones. When I saw her standing in the corner at parties pretending to be vastly interested in the floor, I no longer longed to grab her hand and pull her to the dance floor with me, instead I wanted to bring her a drink so that the tension in her shoulders might ebb away and she could actually enjoy herself.<p>

Occasionally I would catch a glimpse of her when she talk to Scott. She would bat her hands around and her eyes would shine so brightly as she laughed and talked and smiled, her voice always so light, so happy. She almost seemed like the old Cosima.

Only then would my heart ache for the girl I once loved, only then would I feel the emptiness I first felt what seemed like so many life times ago, the intensity of it still as painful as the first day I realized Cosima was no longer my friend, no longer my anything.

I told myself I would no longer wait for someone who barely existed anymore. I told myself I would move on. In seventh grade, just before my thirteenth birthday, a friendly boy named Eli asked me out with a charming grin and shaking hands.

I said yes.

Eli became many of my firsts. My first boyfriend, the first person I held hands with, my first kiss.

He was a good kid: kind, smart, occasionally a decent conversationalist. He was sweet and he was safe. We dated, well dated as much as two barely-teens can, though I doubt having your mom drive you to the movies really counts as a date, for more than a year. Most of our friends went through boyfriends faster than they did tissues, so a year was quite an achievement back then.

But, of course, it ended and it ended with another first.

Eli was the first person to say he loved me.

I knew love. At fourteen I knew without the barest hint of a doubt what love is. Love is a hurricane of emotions, fear, happiness, jealousy, lust, all swirling inside, crashing against bones and organs, pushing and pulling with the tides. Love is a flock of pterodactyls, yes pterodactyls, not weak, fluttering butterflies, huge, prehistoric pterodactyls, ripping and tearing at your stomach. Love is dangerous, it's soul-crushingly, heart-breakingly, horribly wonderful.

It's not one-sided conversations whispered between study breaks. It's not hiding behind a wall in your own heart. It's not safe or quiet or tame. It's not anything I had with Eli. It's not anything I would ever want with Eli.

So I ended it, cruelly, after he choked up the courage to mumble those three false words.

I knew then who I wanted to hear those words from, who I would always want to hear those words from. Who was I kidding, thinking I was over that endearing smile, that quirky humor, that unfiltered joy?

That stupid fucking smile had ruined me since the first time it etched its way onto my heart.

Now I only had to get her to smile at me again.

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><p>Those first few years of high school are rough on everyone, but Cosima, Cosima took it to a whole new level.<p>

While everyone else was trying to figure out exactly where they belonged, Cosima was pushing her few remaining friends away. While everyone else was experimenting with new styles, Cosima had already found hers: black, black, and yes, more black.

Heavy eyeliner brought your attention to her eyes, no longer bright or shining, but always dark with a storm rushing angrily behind her irises. Her bangs were cut jaggedly across her forehead, her hair now dyed jet black. She wore ripped tank tops for old metal bands and tight black jeans roughly tucked into worn combat boots.

On the first day she came stomping into my first period English class and slumped in the back row. Her eyes were bloodshot and she reeked of weed. Harsh music came roaring from her headphones loud enough to to fill every crevice in the room. When our teacher, a plump man of about forty-five with bright eyes and an even brighter intellect, asked her to turn it off, she rolled her eyes as she plucked the buds from her ears.

It was a fairly small class, to get into honors English your freshman year, you have to be invited, and usually only fifteen or so kids get the invitation, so the teacher, Mr. Moran, moved everyone closer to the front.

He moved Cosima to the front row.

She glared at him for most of the class.

We spent the first day playing those stupid "get to know you better" games. The kind that make you have an existential crisis when you suddenly can't remember a single thing about yourself.

The first game was to stand up and say your name and an interesting fact about yourself. Everyone's answers were predictable, some kids liked music, others went on vacation over the summer, shit like that. I said I was born in France, at that point it was still the most, if not only, interesting thing about myself.

Cosima stood up in the first row, stared right at Mr. Moran and said, "I'm Cosima Niehaus and I'm incredibly stoned right now."

You could feel the air being vacuumed from the room as fifteen terrified freshman sucked in fat breaths of air and stared open-eyed at the audacity of that stupid, stupid girl.

Now that in itself would have been an unforgettable moment.

But then, in this room so quiet you could taste the tension, Mr. Moran shook his head and with a voice as dry as the Sahara said, "Well that makes two of us."

It stayed that quiet for about four seconds, then, all at once, each of us was doubled over our desks, laughing so hard that our ribs ached and we could barely breathe, Cosima and Mr. Moran included.

Mr. Moran wiped the tears from his eyes and with one last chuckle, he raised his hands and asked for silence. It took another five minutes before the last of the giggles had ceased.

He clapped his hands and rubbed them together as he spoke. "Alright, well we only have a few minutes left, so I'd like to take this time to tell you about what you've signed up for. He held his hands behind his back and began pacing. "I'm not going to lie to you, this will be your hardest class so far. You've all been personally recommended for this class and that means I expect great things from each and everyone one of you. That's not to say we won't have fun. I try to keep it pretty lighthearted in here, but there will be work and there will be a lot of it. With that being said, come get your books. The first one we're reading is a classic, Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet. I want you to read the first two scenes to prepare for tomorrow's discussion." He spoke over a chorus of groans. "Yes, we will be diving straight in tomorrow. This is an honors class, an honors class you choose, mind you, and this is how things work in honors classes. Get used to it."

And with that he opened up the box of books in the front of the classroom and plopped down at his desk.

A few minutes later, the bell rung. As everyone was packing up, Mr. Moran called Cosima up to his desk. She dropped her bag in front of her desk and slunk over to his desk.

I took my time packing up.

He leaned over the desk and fixed her with a serious stare. "Now, believe me, I get the whole testing your teachers thing, trying to figure out just how far you can poke and prod them. And I'm going to let you go on this one because it's the first day and I'm feeling generous, but if you ever pull a stunt like that again, even if you are kidding next time," he gave her a pointed look, "you will be buried in detentions and extra work. Clear?"

Cosima stared back, her jaw hard and her eyes cold. "Crystal."

He looked surprised at her attitude, but nodded anyway. "Good. Have a nice day, Ms. Niehaus."

She turned on her heel, marched to her desk, slung her bag over her shoulder, and stormed out of the room.

Mr. Moran looked at me, an amused smile playing on his lips. "Shouldn't you be getting to your next class, Delphine?"

I looked around the room and saw I was the last one there, obviously eavesdropping.

"Crap. Right. Bye." I tripped over the leg of my desk when I pulled my backpack on, knocking me to the floor with my bag doing its best at turning me into a turtle. I heard Mr. Moran try to hold back a chuckle.

I scrambled off the floor with as much grace as I could manage and as I left the room, I heard a mumbled "fuckin' freshmen" coming from behind me.

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><p><strong>Good? Bad? Let me know if you're feelin' up to it.<strong>

**Thanks for reading!**


	4. The Stupidity of Youth

**A/N: Oh my god, I am so sorry. I have no excuse for leaving this un-updated for so long, but I am _trying_ to not do that. So the rest of the chapters will probably be shorter (I'm shooting for about 1,000 words per chapter), but hopefully that'll make it easier for me to update often (also shooting for about once or twice a week, no promises though).**

**Also, so many thanks for all the reviews and favorites and follows and the assists in my crappy google-translate French, all of that ish helps motivate me to actually right something, and as you might be able to tell it takes a lot of motivation for me to right some shit. **

**Double also, this season is going to be the death of me.**

**Disclaimer: I, unfortunately, own nothing even related to Orphan Black.**

**All mistakes are mine and mine alone.**

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><p><strong>Chapter Three: The Stupidity of Youth<strong>

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><p>"This play has nothing to do with 'true love!' Romeo is a douche and Juliet is a naïve child." Cosima yelled after yet another girl started spouting off about she wanted to find a love as real as the kind Romeo held for Juliet.<p>

"Really, Cosima? Please, do tell us what you think it's about." Mr. Moran leaned against the desk (where he'd been standing, barely speaking for the entirety of class) and gestured for her to continue.

"The entire play is basically Shakespeare making fun of teenagers. I mean Romeo is your typical testosterone-filled a-hole. He dumps Rosaline, his supposed true love, because she won't sleep with him and then like the next day he's all over Juliet. And Juliet, don't get me started on Juliet. This guy murders her cousin, gets himself banished, and she still freaking kills herself over him." She leans back against her desk, "It's pathetic."

"You don't kill yourself over some school-girl crush, though." I called out in response.

"You do if the entire play is a hyperbole used to demonstrate the stupidity of youth." She called back, nestling further into her desk.

"Yes, of course the young are stupid. We're naïve and brash and foolish, but we're hopeful and trusting and kind too." Cosima turned in her seat to watch me speak. "Of course it's an exaggeration, but to me it shows the sort of novelty of your first love. How head-over-heals in love you think you are because everything is still so new and exciting. And Shakespeare exaggerates those feelings even more than teenagers do, so it's only fitting that he exaggerates the result."

"But Romeo wasn't in love with her. He wanted to fuck her!" Her hands moved wildly as she leaned further out of her desk.

"Ms. Niehaus!" Mr. Moran shouted.

"Crossed the line, I know, I'm sorry." She settled back down. "My point still stands." She crossed her arms.

I rolled my eyes.

"Alright, alright. That's enough discussion for today. Your first essays are due _tomorrow_." Everyone groaned as the bell rung. "No excuses!" He called over the sounds of students packing up.

Cosima was always the first person out of the room. Everyday she would race out of the room, down the hall to meet Scott at his locker before they walked to Bio together, attached at the lips the entire walk there.

I usually took my time packing up to avoid the view.

As I was walking out, Mr. Moran called my name.

"Delphine, wait! I have the draft you emailed me. It's very good, though I'm surprised the essay does not match your in-class tone."

"I like to argue." I shrugged.

He chuckled.

"Well, anyway. I made some notes, marked a few grammatical errors, just some minor issues, nothing major, but other than that, you're golden."

"Thanks," I smiled as I took my paper.

As I turned the corner leaving the room, I nearly bumped into a tiny body.

"Whoa there. Take it easy, blondie." Cosima laughed as she took a step back.

"Maybe you shouldn't be hiding behind doorways." I shot back with raised eyebrows.

"I wasn't hiding, I was waiting."

"For who? For me?" I asked incredulously. She nodded. "Why aren't you running off to go eat the inside of Scott's mouth."

"Ha ha. He's home or something. I don't know." She flicked her hands as if she was flicking away the topic. "Anyway, I figured we could discuss the intricacies of Shakespearean literature on the way to class." Her voice was light, playful. She stood with her hands behind her back and rocked on her heels like she used to do when she was nervous.

"I, uh, I would, but I've got Geometry and it's kind of out of the way for you." I stammered, thrown by the invitation.

She started to back away while she spoke, "Oh, right. Yeah 'course. No problem, I'll just, I'll see you around."

She popped her headphones in and walked off before I had the chance to say anything else.

I shook my head and turned to head off to class.

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><p>Scott came back to school the next day. Cosima did not.<p>

I heard a million different things from a million different people that day; everything from Scott hitting on another girl to Cosima punching him in the face to both of them getting in a fight with the drug cartel. High schoolers really can't be trusted with anything. But the general consensus was that Scott spent the day working up the nerve to break up with Cosima over unknown reasons and when he broke the news, she did not take it well at all.

I felt two very strong, very conflicting emotions. I was sorry for Cosima, she really liked Scott, loved him even, and she had to be devastated. And I really didn't want her to feel that way, no matter how little we spoke these days. But I was also horribly, terribly glad that they were no longer dating. It was selfish and cruel of me to feel that way, but I did and I as much as I wanted to, I couldn't control my feelings, no one can.

So, I glared at Scott in the hallways for hurting poor Cosima, but he kept his head down to avoid my eyes. I tried to pull him away from his friends so I could either beat him up for upsetting her or hug him for letting her go, but he always darted away before I could get close enough.

Cosima didn't come back until the next Monday. I expected, hell, everyone expected, her to look depressed and even angrier than usual. She and Scott had been longest lasting couple after all. But she walked into English that Monday with the slightest of smiles on her face. Her eyes looked a little brighter, maybe it was because they weren't hidden behind layers of eyeliner and hair, or maybe they really were just brighter. She looked a little kinder, a little softer.

She looked like my Cosima.

I didn't make any sense.

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><p><strong>Good? Bad? Let me know if you're feelin' up to it.<strong>

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	5. It's Something

**A/N: Woo, I actually updated more than once a month! This will probably be about the length of the rest of the chapters, so pretty short, but then I can bang out like an entire chapter while I'm at work.**

**As always, y'all are so lovely. Thanks for taking the time to review 'n shit. **

**Disclaimer: I, unfortunately, own nothing even related to Orphan Black.**

**All mistakes are mine and mine alone.**

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><p><strong>Chapter Four: It's Something<strong>

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><p><strong>5 Years Ago<strong>

"Delphine! Delphine wait for me!" Cosima yelled while she rushed to untangle herself from some low hanging branches that had wrapped themselves around strands of her ever-messy hair.

I skidded to a stop about 15 feet in front of her, and jerked around, gasping for breath. "Cos -" pant, "ima-" pant, "what are -" pant "you doing-" pant.

"I'm stuck, obviously! Help untangle me." At this point she was practically ripping her hair out.

I groaned, but ran over anyway, still panting the whole time. "Go faster!"

"I'm trying, it's stuck!"

"We are going to get in trouble!"

"I'm trying!"

I tried unknotting her hair, pulling out the twigs the way they went in, everything I could, but it was like someone glued the damn tree to her hair.

"This is why you have to brush your hair!"

"I do brush it!"

"No you do not!"

"Yu-huh!"

"Nu-uh!"

"Delphine just help me!"

"I am trying, everything is all tangled together."

"Just rip it out!"

"No!"

"It's my hair!"

"Cosima, I am not ripping out your hair."

"We're gonna get in trouble if you don't."

"We will get in trouble if I do!"

"I'll tell my mom I gave myself a haircut, just do it!"

"I am not going to lie!"

"You don't have to, just nod along. Do it!"

"But it will hurt."

"Delphine, just do it!"

I tried pulling the twigs out as carefully as possible, but they wouldn't budge.

"Pull harder!" Cosima moved her hands over mine and tried to help pull.

"Move your hand, you are making this harder!"

"I'm just trying to help." Her hands fell limply to her side.

"Help by brushing your hair." I pulled out the first branch. Her body jerked backward and she tried to hide the movement by crossing her arms. "Or not making me go on some stupid adventure." I pulled harder on the next one. Cosima unsuccessfully tried not to yelp. "I did not even want to do this in the first place." I yanked the next few out. Cosima let out a few quiet whimpers. "So please, next time we are going to play inside." I yanked out the last one, then lightly patted her head. "There, all gone."

"Thank you." Cosima whispered through a few sniffles.

"Now, run!" I grabbed her hand and pulled her forward with me.

Her laughter bounced of the trees and filled the air with its easy happiness.

I couldn't help but smile.

* * *

><p><strong>Present<strong>

"My hair looked so bad, my mom made we wear those stupid hats for like a year." Cosima laughed as she leaned over to steal a few fries from my lunch tray, mouth still full of her own food.

I smacked her hand away and laughed as I responded, "I remember them! I think the monkey one is still in the bottom of my closet somewhere."

She groaned and put her head in her hands, "Oh god, they were so embarrassing."

"I thought they were cute!" I laughed at her.

"Shut up they were awful!"

"They were." I snorted through my nose. "But at least we weren't late."

"It's not like you would've got in trouble."

"What d'you mean?"

"My mom loved you and that accent." She shook her head and chuckled, a smile threatening the corner of her lips. "She would've taken one look at those doe eyes and as soon as you said, 'Je suis désolée' all French-like she would have melted."

"I'm surprised you even remember any French."

"I still know a few things." She winked. "I mean it's hard not to when half the time you'd forget to use English."

"I wasn't that bad!"

"Please! Your accent was so thick I spent the first year you moved here just nodding along to whatever you said."

"You know what's funny?" I asked, already laughing, "You spoke so quickly I did the same thing."

She started laughing too. And her laugh made me laugh and vice versa. We spent the entire lunch period trying to stop laughing, then dissolving into another fit as soon as we made eye-contact.

That's how it all started again. Everyday, she'd sit with me at lunch. The first few times, I'd try to get the rest of the table involved in our chatting, but inevitably, we'd get lost in conversations about our shared childhood and spend most of the period cackling to ourselves. After a while, we just moved to two empty seats at the end of the table so we wouldn't bother everyone else.

Slowly, Cosima was returning to her old self. She still wasn't as open as she used to be, she was a professional at dodging conversations about her family or Scott, but she would wave her hands around as she spoke about almost anything else, her voice was lighter and she allowed it to raise up an octave or two every time she got excited, which was, once again, almost all the time.

I wouldn't exactly say we were friends again. I didn't have her phone number and we never hung out after school, but we were something. And with Cosima, anything is better than nothing.

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><p><strong>Translations<strong>

**1. Je suis désolée - I'm sorry**

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><p><strong>Good? Bad? Let me know if you're feelin' up to it.<strong>

**Thanks for reading!**


	6. Damn Lips

**A/N: I know this wasn't super fast, but I'm doing my best, I promise.**

**Also, can we just talk about the season finale, that was insanity from start to finish. My heart won't be able to take another season.**

**Disclaimer: I, unfortunately, own nothing even related to Orphan Black.**

**All mistakes are mine and mine alone.**

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><p><strong>Chapter Five: Damn Lips<strong>

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><p>After the bell signalling the beginning of first period finishing ringing, Mr. Moran popped out of his chair and made his way to the front of the room.<p>

"Good morning, everyone. Today marks the beginning of the end of your Freshman year. It has been an absolute pleasure teaching all of you this year. I'd like to think we've had more good times than bad and that you guys enjoyed this time as much I have. " He clapped his hands together in front of himself, "Now, I'm sure you're all used to winding down at the end of the year. However, that's not the way it works in this class." There was a series of groans which Mr. Moran spoke over, "We will be working until the very end. This marking period, your big project is a partner project." There was a brief celebration. "Yes, yes I know now you think it'll be easy, but it won't. I don't know if you've noticed, but this year I have never said that you couldn't do an assignment the night before it's due mostly because quite often you can do it in one night as I'm sure most of you have. But this is not a project you can leave until Sunday night. At least start it Saturday night, or at the latest Sunday morning." He walked back to his desk and passed out the stack of packets lying on it. "This project is on the poetry we've been reading. You'll notice it's divided into three parts. You must do all three parts. Let me say it again, _you must do all three parts_. Part one: analysis. You must analyze different aspects of five different poems. Part two: creativity. You must create a new poem from pieces of poems we've read or write your own poem _and_ you must illustrate a poem we've read using creative means, this could be a song, a drawing, a short video, whatever. And part three: presentation. You must present your analysis, your poem, and your creative illustration to the class. All the little details are in the packet. If you have any questions feel free to ask."

Immediately someone called out, "Can we pick our partners."

"Yes, you may pick your own partners." A chorus of cheers filled the air. "But pick someone you'll actually get work down with."

Cosima leaned back to look at me. She winked when we made eye-contact. I chuckled, a little awkwardly.

As people began reading through the packet, more questions began popping up. There were so many that that was the only thing we managed to do for the class period. As the bell rung, with more hands still in the air, Mr. Moran pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a deep breathe.

"No one leave, no one leave! Real quick, I want to make one thing clear. This project is purposefully vague. I want everyone's projects to be vastly different. I want everyone to feel like their projects are their own. Anything goes as long as it's _mostly_ school appropriate and you can defend it to me using my own guidelines. Clear? Alright, get outta here."

Cosima waited for me in front of her desk with her hands holding onto the straps of her backpack.

"So, heavy project, huh?" She asked as she fell into step with me.

"Seriously," I agreed. "So you wanna work with me?"

"Eh," she shrugged. "I've been getting quite a few offers."

"Really, someone else actually wants to work with you?"

She gave me a playful shove, "Be nice! You're the one who asked me."

"That's only 'cause I know you're a control freak and you'll end up doing most of the work."

"I am not a control freak!" She stopped walking and leaned against the wall by the staircase she would take to get to Biology.

I leaned my shoulder against the wall so that I was still facing her, I ended up a little closer than I expected. "Says the girl who used to yell at the bus driver for taking the long way."

When she turned her face to respond, her nose was only a inch or so from mine, but she didn't lean back, she just stared right at me, her eyebrow just the slightest bit raised. "I was just trying to get us home in the most efficient manner."

I shook my head and smiled, "He had other kids to drop off!"

"Well that wasn't my problem," she mumbled, cutely rubbing the back of her neck, her bangs fell in front of her face as she tilted her head down.

I turned away, leaning m back against the wall, pretending to roll my eyes, mostly trying to get myself to stop staring at her. When I turned back to face her, my eyes landed right on her lips. I knew I needed to focus my eyes just a little bit higher, but I couldn't get them to move, and if I'm being completely honest, I didn't really want to look away. I even, very conspicuously, accidentally licked my lips. I was hoping that she wouldn't notice, then the corner of her lips turned upward in a smirk.

I jolted my eyes away, upwards to safer territory. Cosima looked like she was trying not to laugh.

"Well, anyway," I faltered, "We're gonna be late, so I, uh, I'll see you later."

"Yeah," she said, openly smirking, "see you at lunch, Delphine."

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><p><strong>Good? Bad? Let me know if you're feelin' up to it.<strong>

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	7. Indecency

**A/N: Heyo I'm getting better about not being a dick when it comes to updating.**

**You guys are are far too nice by the way, all those reviews, man they so lovely. **

**Disclaimer: I, unfortunately, own nothing even related to Orphan Black.**

**All mistakes are mine and mine alone.**

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><p><strong>Chapter Six: Indecency<strong>

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><p>I really didn't want to go to lunch. The thought of Cosima's lips curled into a smirk was simultaneously adorably sexy (if there is such a thing) and incredibly embarrassing. There was no way she didn't notice the blatant staring but maybe, just maybe I could have gotten away with it if I hadn't been so stupid as to lick my lips. I mean since when did I have the self-control of a sex-starved teenage boy?<p>

I thought about going to the library, but then Cosima would know I was avoiding her and that would just make the whole thing look even worse. It's bad enough I've been in love with my straight ex-best friend, turned friendly acquaintance since I was eight, it'd be a hell of a lot worse if she knew about it. So, while I walked, without any haste whatsoever, to the cafeteria, I tried my hardest to forget the whole thing. When that didn't work, I pretended to forgot the whole thing.

And of course, as soon as Cosima saw me down the hall from her spot outside the cafeteria where she was leaning coolly against the wall, her lips turned into that same tempting smirk I couldn't even pretend to forget.

As I got closer, she pushed herself off the wall and greeted me with, "Hey there, blondie."

"Blondie?" I asked as we started walking to the lunch line.

"It's a new nickname I'm trying out." She stated matter-of-factly.

"Got something against Delphine?"

"Don't get me wrong, it's a lovely name, it really is, but sometimes it sounds a little serious."

"Well at least my name's not made up." I muttered, mildly insulted.

"Now that's just mean." She put on an air of offendedness for a moment before breaking out into a sly grin, "And it's slander. Untrue slander, and that's the worst kind."

"Cosima, your name is completely made up."

"I'll have you know it comes from the Greek word Kosmos which means decency, thank you very much."

"Decency," I snorted, "are you sure something wasn't lost in translation?"

"Oh I'm the indecent one 'cause like an hour ago you found _something_ about me pretty decent." She flicked her eyebrows upward before turning on her heel and strutting to our table at the back of the room.

I stood there, slack-jawed, for at least fifteen seconds before I was able to make my legs move toward the table.

At least she didn't seem mad or weirded-out, just not blissfully unaware like I was hoping.

When I got to the table Cosima was already shoveling food into her mouth. It's amazing she's as small as she is, she eats every meal as if it was her first and her last.

"Do you even chew?" I asked, disgusted and impressed.

"Don't need to." She said around a mouthful of food.

"At least cover your mouth, you heathen."

She wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand. "Why? Then you wouldn't be able to stare at it." She took another enormous bite out of her sandwich.

The first shot was funny and totally deserved, the second made the air still with awkward tension. There was nothing I could say to ease the discomfort. She was right, I was very obviously staring and there was no way I could pretend I wasn't, especially after I couldn't even pretend to pretend that it didn't happen.

When I didn't respond for a minute, just took a few minuscule (compared to Cosima) bites of my salad, Cosima tapped my arm lightly and mumbled an apology.

I rolled my eyes with a slight smile.

"So this English project." She kindly changed the subject.

"I know. Any ideas?"

"Well I've got one for the 'creative illustration'" She air-quoted.

"Do tell." I leaned forward so that my elbows were resting on the table and my head rested in my hands.

"So the poem is that _My Papa's Waltz_."

"Is that the abuse slash dance one?"

"Yeah. So there's this thing, it's called a zoetrope, it's kind of like a flip-book, but instead of flicking through post-it notes, you spin it."

"Weird."

"It's cool, I promise. So I was thinking of making it so that when you spin it one way, it's a scene of the father dancing with the son, and the other way he's hitting him."

"Can you do that?"

"I have no idea."

"Do you wanna work on it today?" I asked. I knew I might have been coming on strong with the project after the whole smirky lip-staring incident, but I can't stand leaving things until the last minute. I'd much rather do everything right away so I can get it off my mind.

Much to my surprise, Cosima seemed equally eager to start working on the project. "Yeah, I wanna get this thing over and done with."

"Definitely," I agreed. "So whose house are we working at?"

Cosima suddenly seemed...uncomfortable. She was fidgeting slightly, bouncing her knees and playing with her necklace, and, as much as she tried to hide it, her face fell ever so slightly. "My house isn't so good right now, so yours would probably be better."

"Everything alright?" I asked, genuinely concerned.

"Oh yeah, everything's fine." She stammered for a moment, "It's just...just that my mom's doing the whole spring cleaning thing so she's reorganizing the whole house and it's a disaster area right now."

Bullshit.

But we weren't close enough for me to pry into her personal life, so I let it be. All I could do was tell her to come over to my house after school and hope she'd tell me what was actually wrong.

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><p><strong>This is the poem Cosima was talking about:<br>**

My Papa's Waltz by Theodore Roethke

_The whiskey on your breath _  
><em>Could make a small boy dizzy; <em>  
><em>But I hung on like death: <em>  
><em>Such waltzing was not easy.<em>

_We romped until the pans _  
><em>Slid from the kitchen shelf; <em>  
><em>My mother's countenance <em>  
><em>Could not unfrown itself.<em>

_The hand that held my wrist _  
><em>Was battered on one knuckle; <em>  
><em>At every step you missed<em>  
><em>My right ear scraped a buckle.<em>

_You beat time on my head _  
><em>With a palm caked hard by dirt, <em>  
><em>Then waltzed me off to bed <em>  
><em>Still clinging to your shirt.<em>

* * *

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	8. Memories

**A/N: Not to be a self-promoter (but totally to be a self-promoter), I just started another OB fic called _In Another Time_. It's been stuck in my head for weeks so I finally decided to try to make something of it. It'd be super awesome if you could check it out, maybe tell me what'cha think.**

**End shameless self-promotion.**

**As per usual, thank you so much for reviewing, you are all so wonderfully kind.**

**On to the story. **

**Disclaimer: I, unfortunately, own nothing even related to Orphan Black.**

**All mistakes are mine and mine alone.**

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><p><strong>Chapter Seven: Memories <strong>

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><p>She was coming over at 4. That meant there was an hour and a half window between the time I got home and the time she would get here. An hour and a half for me to get unreasonably nervous.<p>

I picked up the clothes that hadn't quite made it into the laundry basket. I organized my closest by the color of the clothing. I pulled every empty water bottle out from under my bed. I vacuumed the floor, my chairs, hell, I even (very carefully) vacuumed the curtains. After I was done compulsively cleaning my already clean room, I plopped my self onto my bed and stared at the clock. 3:48. She would be there soon enough.

I sat back up, feeling surprisingly small in the middle of my queen-sized bed. The pillows seemed stacked too high, the comforter billowed around me, lightly circling my legs, the walls of my room, covered in tokens from the past, felt further than they did before. A series of pictures on the wall caught my eye. They were framed in bright red, clashing with the soft lilac of my walls, a gift from Cosima for my tenth birthday. I flattened out the comforter and rolled off the bed.

There were three pictures, one below the next. I remember so clearly the day those pictures were taken. It was Thanksgiving. One year, before separate family dinners, mine and Cosima's families hung out together in my backyard. The adults all had their hushed conversations inside, safe from the chilly fall air, and the kids all played various fall-themed games, all bundled up in far too many layers courtesy of typically protective suburban moms.

That whole day was lovely, but the best part was the pie eating contest. Normally, my mother would scold me for so much as brushing my elbows against the table when eating, but that day, she let me line up behind a table with my cousins, (all of whom flew in for 'this novel Thanksgiving thing') my best friend, and all her cousins to jam my face into a pie tin drowning in cherry filling and whipped cream.

When I pulled my head out of the sticky pan, there were bits of cherries all over my face, in my hair, and down my shirt. My mom ran over thinking she could do some sort of damage control, but I was a lost cause. Cosima ran over too, but she came not with wet naps and towels, but with a filled pie tin.

And that is the first picture in the series: the pie tin mid throw, only inches from my petrified face, Cosima howling with laughter, her head throw back and her arms crossed over her stomach, and my mother, in the background and slightly out of focus, holding onto a roll of paper towels with the most defeated look on her face.

The next picture is post-collision: the empty pie tin lying upside-down in the grass, bits of cherries dripping off my very, very angry face, Cosima backing up with her hands held palms-out in defense, and my mother walking away from the scene, the paper towels discarded in the lawn behind her.

The last picture is the aftermath: Cosima curled up on the ground, covered in whipped cream and cherry filling, me standing over her, with the bottle of whipped cream upside-down and aiming right at her face, my mother nowhere to be seen, and the roll of paper towels still lying, unused, in the grass.

That was the same year Cosima and I started middle school. It was the last time I spent a holiday with her.

I smiled sadly as I traced the lines of our faces, so much younger, despite only a couple years having passed. So much happened between then and now and none of it left a mark on my walls.

No tokens from Eli, my first and only boyfriend, no pictures with other friends, not that I really had many other friends, just a few people I was friendly with. Two years passed and you'd never know it looking at my room. It was frozen in time, a living museum dedicated to my friendship with Cosima, no other exhibits on display.

I knew then, how badly I fell for that girl. The room that mere minutes ago seemed so large suddenly caved in on me. I was strangled by memories of a life I stopped living, memories of a girl I wasn't even sure existed anymore.

I hated her. In that moment, I hated her more than anyone I've ever known. How could she make a home in my heart just to leave it abandoned for years? How could she fill every crack in my life with her laughter just to break me open even wider? How could she make me care so much while she cared so little?

How could she care so little.

And of course, as soon as I felt like my entire existence had shifted, I heard a small knock at my bedroom door.

The walls lurched backward, pulling the suffocating mementos with them. I looked at the clock. 4:03.

Another knock at my door, this one a bit louder. "Hey Delphine, it's me. Your door's locked." Cosima called from behind my door.

I shook my head back and forth, just trying to clear my head, before opening the door.

"Hey," I croaked out once it was mostly open.

"What's wrong?" The smile on Cosima's face fell.

"What? Nothing." My voice was low and raspy.

"You've been crying." Cosima's voice dropped in tone and volume. She reached out and wiped a tear from my cheek.

I took a few steps backward and angrily wiped at the rest of the droplets. Cosima followed me in, staying only a step behind me.

"Whatever's wrong you can talk to me." She looked up at me with her big brown eyes, so soft, so sincere, and smiled slightly with the corner of her lips. And just like that, I remembered why I loved her. That's all it took: a small smile and kind eyes, that's all it took to make me a goner once again.

And god did I hate her even more for making me love her.

I hated that the waves still crashed into my ribs every time I saw her. I hated that I let them leave me battered and bruised, drowning in an ocean of my own doing. I hated that the only person who could pull me ashore was, in fact, her.

So I stared at her for a moment, tossing around the idea of telling her all this. But of course, I wasn't ready to either sink or swim, I wasn't ready to leave this limbo. I wasn't ready to stop drowning.

After a long moment and a deep breath, I smiled same as she did, slightly with the corner of my lips, "I'm alright, I was just cleaning and found some old stuff that made me all nostalgic." It wasn't a complete lie.

"Well I'm glad," she smiled, widely this time, "'cause we've got a lot of work to do."

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><p><strong>Good? Bad? Let me know if you're feelin' up to it.<strong>

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	9. Paradise

**A/N: I am so very sorry for how long this took. My laptop decided to die on me, but I've got a new one now, so it (hopefully) won't be another month until I update.**

**Thanks for reviewing, following, favoriting, all that jazz, it's quite nice of you all.**

**Translations at the end. **

**Disclaimer: I, unfortunately, own nothing even related to Orphan Black.**

**All mistakes are mine and mine alone.**

* * *

><p>"Is this <em>the <em>hat?" Cosima asked, pulling a beige beanie with a knitted monkey face out of my closet.

"The very same." I replied barely looking up from where I was sprawled on my bed, studiously working while Cosima toured my room.

I was glad that my minor episode had passed quickly and that Cosima had the decency not to ask anymore questions. I was, however, not too glad that Cosima had forwent our work after barely starting it so that she could examine the knickknacks littered about my room. Every once in a while she would hold up an object and ask if I remembered the story behind it. I always did.

A moment later she plopped down next to me and pulled the hat down over my eyes.

"Stop that!" I laughed while swatting at Cosima's hands as she guffawed at my struggling. Finally I batted her hands away and tossed the beanie across the room. "Aren't we supposed to be working?"

"We've got like a month!" She said, rolling her eyes as she leaned backward, lying on the bed next to me so her head was near my waist and her legs were dangling off the end of the bed.

I leaned up on my elbows so I could look back at her, "You were the one who wanted to start it early."

"I was merely going along with your suggestion."

I rolled over and sat up with my legs crossed, looking at Cosima who was fiddling with the bottom of her shirt. "Fine then, what d'you want to do?"

"Not school work." She glanced back up at me with a cheshire grin.

"Yes we have established that."

"Just making sure. I know how studious you like to be."

"Well some of us have to try to get good grades."

"Hey! I try!"

"Coming in stoned nearly every day does not constitute as trying."

"I haven't come to school stoned in weeks!"  
>"My god, such discipline! You deserve a medal."<p>

"Oh, shut it." She pouted, pushing my arm so I fell backwards.

I shrugged my shoulders and unfolded my legs so that they rested on her thighs, setting them down less-than-gently.

We sat quietly for a minute. Cosima had folded her hands behind her head and was staring at the ceiling, occasionally looking over at me.

"Hey Cos?" She shifted her head slightly so that she could see me. "I was just wondering," I paused, "what's it like to be stoned?"

She shot me a mischievous look and wagged her eyebrows up and down as she said, "I could show you?"

I worried on my lip as I considered it. Cosima's eyes danced downward. I smirked.

After a moment I asked hopefully, "Yeah?"

Cosima's eyes widened. "Yeah? You're serious?" She asked in utter disbelief.

"Am I seriously that boring?" I replied indignantly.

"No! No. It's just you've always been the good kid, the rule-follower, the one to keep me out of trouble." She rattled off.

"Well I can be bad." I pouted.

"Oh yeah?" Cosima asked in a tone I couldn't recognize. "Prove it." She practically whispered.

"Like right now?" My eyes bugged out of my head.

"If you want to." Cosima was staring very intently at me.

"We can't in my room."

Cosima laughed good-naturedly at my expression. "Don't worry, I know a place."

"Okay."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously. I'm just going to tell my mom we're going on a walk."

I sped out of the room, shutting the door behind me as I went. I leaned heavily against the wall. What the hell was I thinking? I don't do drugs! I don't make rash decisions. I sit quietly and do what I'm told. I'm the rule follower. But, I guess, look what that's gotten me: good grades, a nice family life, and an astonishing total of one whole friend. Maybe it was time to make a change, to do something stupid for once in my incredibly boring life.

I pushed myself off the wall and padded my way down the hall to my mother's room. I knocked quietly on her open door; she looked up from her book with an easy smile.

"Maman, Cosima and I are going for a walk."

"You're supposed to be working, chérie."

"I know but we've been working for a while and we need a break."

"Where are you going?"

"I don't know, just around."

"Je ne sais pas, Delphine. Combien de temps allez-vous être allé?"

"Quelques heures."

"Vous être prudent."

"I will, maman!"

I rushed back to my room and closed the door by leaning back on it. "Ready?" I asked, face gleaming.

"You sure about this?"

"Fuck yeah!" I said with much more confidence than I felt.

"Oh so we're cursing now too, are we?"

"Shut up."

"Whatever you say, rule breaker."

Cosima slung her bag over her shoulder and led the way out of the house, waving goodbye to my mother (who was eyeing Cosima a bit suspiciously) as she passed her room. Cosima led us down a few streets, animatedly talking about her perfect "smoke spot" and how secluded and fantastic it was. She led us through a park we used to play in that was about a mile from our houses. On the other side of the park was a patch of woods we often adventured in as kids (the very same patch of woods where Cosima got her hair stuck in a collection of branches.).

"Cosima we can't smoke there!" I hissed at her.

"Why not?" She asked confusedly.

"We played there when we were kids!"

"So?" She said in the same tone.

"That's like, tainting the memory of our childhood."

"It's not tainting, it's enhancing." I shot her a sceptical look. "Just trust me!"

I breathed out heavily, "Fine, but I still think it's a bad idea."

"Noted and ignored."

A few minutes of tripping over roots later we walked into a clearing in the woods. The sunlight poured into the expanse, glad it didn't have to fight through the thick canopy of the trees anymore, illuminating the campground. Several fallen trees had been moved to create an arch for the entrance. In the center of the clearing there were tree trunks in a wide circle presumably for sitting. In the middle of that was a smaller circle of rocks lining a divot about 5 feet wide in diameter. On the far side of camps were slanted stacks of sticks propped up between trees and covered in leaves. Cosima walked into the middle of it all and held her arms out wide while turning slowly.

"This, my dear Delphine, is Paradise." She gestured to the makeshift benches, "Plenty of places to sit, smoke, have a laugh around the firepit," she pointed to the divot surrounded by rocks, "Later tonight I'll make a kickass fire." She wandered over to one side of the clearing a stuck her hand in the hollow of a tree. She fished around for a moment before pulling out a metal box. "This is the gearbox. Usually there's a small cooler in one of the other trees, but it's probably empty and I don't know which tree it's in. Anyway, we keep all the equipment locked in this thing." She tapped the box a few times.

"Equipment?"

"Rolling papers, bowls, lighters, bongs. Shit to smoke out of." I shot her a confused look. "I'll show you them all once I'm done with the tour."

"Carry on, then."

"Good." She clapped her hands together then pointed to the opposite side of the clearing, "over there's the bathroom."

"There's a bathroom?" I asked skeptically.

"There's a bucket." She shrugged. "Back there behind the firepit are some lean-tos and we've got sleeping bags tied up in the trees." She pointed to a few brightly colored blobs I hadn't noticed before. "And that's about it. What d'you think?"

"Did you do all this?"

"Oh hell no. Me and a few people set it all up."

"I'm impressed."

"You should be. This Paradise took fucking months to make."

I was quiet for a minute as I wandered around the clearing. They had thought of just about everything. It really was impressive especially for a few dopey stoners. Cosima must have mistaken my silence as a bad thing. She looked at me with a touch of nervousness and eventually asked quietly, "Do you really like it?"

I turned to her, a smile on my face, "It's Paradise!"

Her laugh was all I needed for me to know that I'd be making quite a few more bad decisions in the future.

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><p><strong>Translations:<strong>

**1. Je ne sais pas, Delphine. Combien de temps allez-vous être allé? - I don't know, Delphine. How long will you be gone?**

**2. Quelques heures. - A few hours.**

**3. Vous être prudent. - Be careful. **

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><p><strong>Good? Bad? Let me know if you're feelin' up to it.<strong>

**Thanks for reading!**


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